


for all this searching you're the best thing that i've found.

by inferiority



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Fluff and Smut, Homophobia, Louis calls Harry baby a lot, M/M, Mental Instability, Mentions of Suicide, Minor Character Death, Physical Abuse, Top Louis, harry is a puppet, louis does flying trapeze, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 12:52:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5164502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inferiority/pseuds/inferiority
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Harry…” Louis whispers, getting on his knees between the taller boy’s legs. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>Harry sniffs and lets a tear fall. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything. Fucking Mr. Acker."</p><p>“I wanna kill that son of a bitch,” Louis mutters.</p><p>“Don’t do that, Louis,” Harry laughs bitterly. “As much as I want you to.”</p><p>“I would. I would do it for you."</p><p>(Louis is part of a circus and meets the quiet puppet named Harry. It spins into something amazing.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	for all this searching you're the best thing that i've found.

**Author's Note:**

> Hiiiiiii.
> 
> Filling this prompt: @WORLDLWT on Twitter: "AU where Harry is a "puppet" in a circus act and Louis finds his quiet demeanor intoxicating-ly pleasing."
> 
> This is pretty different from what I usually write but hopefully you still enjoy...
> 
> You can find me on Twitter @writerlxrry
> 
> Title is from "Don't Let Me Let You Go" by Jamie Lawson.
> 
> ALSO I've never written a full length sex scene so let's hope it's not terrible.

**for all this searching you're the best thing that i've found.**

The circus business is harsh. It consists of long hours and shit living conditions and even shittier food. But Louis’ still here. Why? Because of the damn puppet that has a fifteen minute time slot during the second act.

The boy’s precious. He’s quiet yet comical, hardly says a word during his act, and can move gracefully but stiffly at the same time. For his act he wears a thin layer of white paint over any visible skin and draws stitches with black Halloween makeup. A hat usually covers his face, so only his nose and mouth are shown, his lips usually pulled into a mysterious smirk. Louis’ never heard him say a word outside of his act, doesn’t even know his name. He’s known merely as ‘the puppet’.

Louis’ still here because the damn industry doesn’t deserve this boy. He’s much too pure and quiet to be ruined by it like Louis himself and all the others had been. Plus, he happens to be pretty good at the art of flying trapeze.

A lot of the other acts had been diagnosed with some form of mental illness, the most common being depression. They had joined the circus with bright visions of their futures, but eventually the nostalgia had worn off, and they were left homesick and depressed.

That’s what the industry did to people. They no longer felt the buzz of adrenaline after coming off stage, after hearing the crowd cheering for them. It was no longer fun. A lot of the acts had quit for these reasons. Being a roadie was hard, no doubt about it.

There were eleven acts in their circus. Twenty-four people who went on stage every night to please the crowd.

There was Angela, a trapeze artist. She’d left after four months when she found out her girlfriend had been killed in a car accident. None of them have heard from her since.

There was Marcus, a flame thrower. He left after three weeks when he found out his wife was pregnant. He sends texts occasionally.

Then there was the worst of the bunch, a boy named Sebastian. He was a part of their deranged ‘family’ for four years. On his nineteenth birthday they found him dead in the bathtub in his trailer. Louis remembers the day well. Seb’s death cast a dark shadow over the crew and the atmosphere was never the same afterwards.

That’s what the industry does to you. Louis never wants that to happen to the quiet boy with pale white skin.

_x_

The first thing Louis does after he wakes up in the morning is look in the mirror. He’s usually okay with what he sees…but lately the circus has been taking a toll on him. His eyes are dull and sunken in, the bags beneath them huge. His hair is mess, which is preposterous.

He’s thinner too. Way thinner. He left home nice and full and now he’s basically a sack of bones. He misses his mum’s cooking.

After he’s seen his sad reflection he usually heads down to the catering tent for a spot of breakfast before rehearsals and sound check and all that. The puppet’s usually there, too. The tent is a medium sized white circus tent, with coolers and heated containers to keep the food at it’s best. Half of them are broken (“it’s best” isn’t that good, anyway). Louis usually picks something simple, like a piece of fruit or oatmeal, with tea. Always with tea. It’s one of the things that remind him of home.

Again, the puppet’s usually there, sitting alone at one of the empty tables, usually with a banana and a bottle of water or on some occasions, Red Bull. He looks a lot more alive without his makeup on, Louis’ noticed. He’s got nice green eyes and long, dark curls—down to his collarbones—that are usually tied up in a low bun, a bowler hat shoved on top. He usually wears a white or black t-shirt, with black skinnies to match, when he’s not on stage. And he’s got lovely dimples, too. He can’t be older than twenty-one.

Louis’ hardly ever seen him smile. He doesn’t think the boy has many friends. He’s seen him hanging around the aerial silk artist, Zayn, a few times, but other than that he’s usually alone.

When Louis gets to the tent he grabs his usual breakfast and sits with his only two friends in the whole place, Liam and Niall. Liam’s a fire dancer and Niall does all sorts of things, juggling, unicycling, and he’s pretty handy with the devil sticks, too.

They became buds after they heard that Seb had died. Each other was all they had.

_x_

Louis finds out the boy’s name while the circus is stopped in Birmingham. He overhears the boy’s partner, Nick the puppet master, chatting with the boss, Mr. Acker, in the main circus tent one day after rehearsals.

Mr. Acker is a big man with a handlebar mustache and salt and pepper hair. He’s very strict on his circus acts and always makes sure they’re in order, but he never thinks twice about making sure that everyone’s enjoying themselves and not going insane.

“I want more time for my act, so does Harry,” Nick says. “We want to do more.”

The boy’s name is Harry. _It suits him,_ Louis thinks.

“What other things, Grimshaw? Fifteen minutes is plenty of time.”

“Harry wants to do a new tap dance he’s been practicing. It’s really good, and the crowd will love it,” Nick replies.

“A tap dance?” Mr. Acker laughed. “This isn’t a show for sissies.”

Oh yeah, that’s another thing. Mr. Acker is terribly homophobic. And stereotypical, apparently.

Nick goes silent at that.

“We’ll have none of that, Grimshaw. You and the puppet will use your fifteen minute slot and not a moment over, understand?” Mr. Acker says, his voice sharp.

Nick stares at his shoes. “Yes,” he mumbles.

“Good. Now run along. And tell Lily I need her in my trailer ay-sap.”

Nick turns towards Louis’ hiding spot so he books it out of there before Nick or Mr. Acker catch him snooping.

_x_

Louis finally talks to Harry right before their show in Glasgow, a few weeks later.

He finds the quiet boy, makeup on, in the catering tent eating an apple fifteen minutes before the show starts. He looks anxious, his eyebrows furrowed, not yet covered by his bowler hat.

“Nervous?” Louis asks from the other side of the tent. His voice carries easily. Harry’s head snaps up and green meets blue. Something in Louis _zings_. “I’m Louis.”

“Harry. And yeah…” He says quietly. His voice is raspy, and lower than Louis was expecting. “My boyfriend’s here tonight. He’s never seen me perform.”

Louis bits his lip. “Why not?”

“He thinks it’s kind of weird. What I do, that is,” Harry replies. Louis’ face softens as the taller boy looks down to the floor.

There’s a pause for a moment before Louis speaks up. “I know I’m not in any position to tell you this, but you should pick someone who’s supportive.”

Harry laughs quietly, but it’s almost bitter. “I’ve been with him since I was fifteen.”

Louis nods solemnly, realizing he may have crossed a line. Harry turns his back to Louis and the older boy takes that as his cue to leave.

“Well, break a leg, Harry,” Louis says, then turns on his heel and leaves the tent.

_x_

The show goes smoothly and it’s not long before the stage crew is packing up the circus and they’re in the next city. They’re in Edinburgh and Louis hasn’t seen Harry since Glasgow and he’s kind of missing him, if he’s being honest.

Louis sees Nick, Harry’s stage partner, in catering on the day of the show and decides to investigate.

“Hey Nick,” he says, pulling out a chair beside the older boy and plopping down into it.

“Oh, hey, Lou,” Nick replies, taking a bite from his mac n cheese.

“I haven’t seen Harry around,” Louis says, trying to sound casual.

Nick nods. “Yeah…went home for a few days, said there was a family emergency or something. Left after the Glasgow show with his boyfriend.”

Louis frowns, remembering his and Harry’s conversation before the show in Glasgow, how his boyfriend wasn’t supportive of Harry’s place in the circus.

“Oh. Do you know when he’ll be back?”

Nick shrugs indifferently. “Said he’d be back by tonight. In time to perform.”

Louis lets out a sigh and nods. “Alright. Thanks, Nick.”

He leaves the tent and looks out over the fairgrounds. In the daylight, they seem grey and somber, almost ominous, because of the lack of sunshine in Edinburgh. At night is when the circus seems lively, crawling with people and lights flashing and joyous music playing, although as soon as all those people are gone, the atmosphere will go right back to its gloomy state.

It’s one giant act.

_x_

Harry gets back in time for his performance. And he also does his tap dance. He starts off slow, along to the music, and as his feet start moving faster and faster his smirk gets bigger and bigger under his bowler hat.

So does the vain on Mr. Acker’s forehead. The man’s face is about as red as a tomato and that vain is about to pop. He’s practically vibrating with anger, too, from his spot backstage. He’s just offstage enough so that the crowd can’t see him, but Harry can. Yeah, Harry can definitely see him and he’s definitely watching him, seeing him get angrier and angrier as the dance continues.

Harry gets a standing ovation after his dance, but when he comes offstage Mr. Acker is hauling him out of there so fast you’d have thought the place was on fire.

_x_

Harry returns with a bruise on his cheekbone, visible through his stage makeup, and a bloody nose. And Louis is livid.

He immediately rushes up to Harry and demands that he let Louis help clean him up, but Harry insists that he’s fine, not taking his eyes off the ground. His cheeks are red from embarrassment and probably anger, too, and Louis’ about to pop his top. Liam and Niall are near, asking if he’s okay and what the asshole did to him. Zayn’s there, too, but he stays quiet, his jaw ticking.

“Harry,” Louis says firmly. He uses a tone that causes Harry to stiffen and lift his eyes. “Let me help you.”

Harry sighs, frustrated. “Okay. Fine.”

“We’re going to your trailer. Come on.” Louis leads Harry with an arm around his back out of the main tent and to the latter’s trailer.

The door opens and it smells like Harry. That’s the first thing Louis notices.

It’s weirdly clean, too, and there are light purple spread around the small space, unlit. The small kitchenette is spotless and the single bed is made perfectly. The tiny television is on a jazz music program, set at a low volume. Louis thinks it reflects what he knows about Harry very well.

Louis leads Harry to the small bathroom on the far side of the trailer and sits him down onto the toilet. There’s a purple loofah in the shower and multiple bath products in the hanging shelf.

“Why did you leave?”

“Oh, I didn’t go far. My boyfriend broke up with me so I just headed to a hotel for a few days to clear my head.”

Louis frowns. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Harry waves his apology away, his eyes still trained on the floor. “You were right. He was a douche. I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Do you have bandages?” Louis ask, his voice still tight. He’s still peeved off and he really doesn’t want to take it out on Harry.

“In the cupboard,” Harry mumbles. His eyes are set on the ground again and Louis’ face softens as he sees that they’re wet.

“Harry…” Louis whispers, getting on his knees between the taller boy’s legs. “I’m so sorry.”

Harry sniffs and lets a tear fall. “Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything. Fucking Mr. Acker.”

“I wanna kill that son of a bitch,” Louis mutters.

“Don’t do that, Louis,” Harry laughs bitterly. “As much as I want you to.”

“I would. I would do it for you.”

_x_

After that incident, Louis and Harry kind of stick together like glue. Louis’ not complaining. He feels like he needs to protect the younger boy, maybe because of what happened with Mr. Acker.

The two boys spend every meal together, along with Nick and Liam and Niall and Zayn. They’re all great guys, and they don’t comment when Louis scoots his chair as close to Harry’s as possible, which he can appreciate.

They treat each other like they’ve been friends for years, and it’s strange. Louis’ never connected with someone so fast. Harry is just so _lovely_ and naturally quiet and calm and he contrasts perfectly with Louis loud personality.

After a few weeks, Louis finds himself slowly beginning to think of Harry differently. When they’re sitting together, he wishes he could reach over and take Harry hand. He almost does a few times.

Louis wishes he could tangle his fingers into Harry’s long hair, to touch his skin, to hold him close.

It’s frustrating.

_x_

Something changes on a rainy Tuesday while they’re stopped in Westmeath, Ireland.

Apparently it’s Niall’s hometown so he took the other boys out to the pub after the show, but Harry and Louis stayed back at the fairgrounds because of a headache Harry’s been complaining about.

“You should’ve gone with them, Lou,” Harry says from his spot on the couch in Louis’ trailer. He’s wearing a white v-neck and grey joggers, his hair loose and long down his back. His face is freshly washed, all the makeup off from the show. His bruises have finally healed. Hell’s Kitchen is on the telly muted, and they’re trying to guess what Gordon Ramsay’s yelling.

“Nah, there’ll be other pubs.” Louis shifts so his legs are splayed across Harry’s lap and his head is on the taller boy’s shoulder.

“You’re really great,” Harry says quietly, and there’s something about the way he says it that causes Louis to lift his head and look at Harry.

Harry’s eyes are intense, staring back at Louis. Louis desperately wants to touch his face…so he just…goes for it.

He touches Harry’s jaw first, fingertips brushing softly against his skin. Harry’s eyes flutter as Louis moves upwards, over his cheekbones, then his cupid’s bow. His fingers glide slowly over Harry’s eyelids, feeling his eyelashes. The air around them is charged.

After a moment Louis just snaps. He grabs Harry’s face and quickly pulls it to his own, their lips pressing together messily.

And it’s desperate, a long time coming, Louis’ hands tangling in Harry’s curls and Harry’s moving to cup Louis’ jaw. Their lips move together quickly, the kiss so intense that Louis’ toes curl and his head gets a little fuzzy.

After a moment of kissing closed-mouth Louis slips his tongue into Harry’s mouth and their kiss turns dirty quick. Harry’s hands lower to grasp at Louis’ hips and they maneuver so that Louis’ knees are on either side of Harry’s hips and he’s properly straddling the younger boy.

Louis lets out a moan when Harry’s hands slide down Louis’ back to grope his bum, the smaller lad pulling lightly at Harry’s hair.

“Harry,” Louis mumbles against Harry’s lips. “Can we…”

“Yeah,” Harry says, his voice breathy. “God, Lou…”

Harry’s just about to get up with Louis bundled in his arms when the door to the trailer opens and Niall is stepping through the threshold.

“Well, well, well.” He grins. It’s obvious what they had been doing. “Finally. Jesus Christ.”

_x_

Word gets around eventually. It also happens to get to Mr. Acker.

He gives the two boys dirty glares when he passes their table in catering, Louis and Harry quickly untangling their hands so he doesn’t see.

It’s hard.

_x_

One day, after a few months of death glares and hateful mumbles, while Louis is putting on his show makeup, Harry stumbles through the door to his trailer with a hand covering his right eye.

“Louis, I need help!” He shouts, his voice shaking.

Louis stands up quickly, startled. He rushes over to Harry and sees blood staining his hands. “What happened?”

“He hit me with his ring on…it just missed my eye,” Harry says, but he’s frazzled. “It’s bleeding so much.”

“Move your hand for me, baby.” Harry’s also got a few bruises elsewhere on his face, along with a bleeding lip and a cut on his collarbone. “Jesus, H.”

Harry moves his hand and under it is an inch long cut just under his eyebrow, bleeding heavily over his eyelid, blood dripping from his eyelashes. “Christ, okay, put your hand back and press down. I’m going to get a cloth.”

Louis runs to the bathroom and grabs a face cloth then returns to Harry, who’s still standing awkwardly near the door. “Come sit down. And hold this on your eye.”

_x_

Harry’s eye stops bleeding after ten minutes, and Louis bandages him up before they decide to lie down together on the couch. They’re missing the show but they really couldn’t give less of a shit.

Louis has his back against the arm of the couch, and Harry’s lying back between his legs, back-to-chest. Louis’ hands are resting on Harry’s abdomen. He can hear Harry sniffling.

“Harry,” Louis whispers comfortingly. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Harry lets out a quiet sob as he hears Louis reassuring him. “Oh, H…”

Harry turns around to face Louis, tear tracks staining his cheeks and his eyes red. Louis’ heart tugs as he sees how distraught he is.

“I want to leave,” Harry says, then pulls Louis in for a kiss.

It surprises Louis, because of how upset Harry is, he didn’t think the taller boy would be up for anything tonight. The two kiss lazily for a few minutes before Harry’s tugging at Louis’ shirt.

“Harry…are you sure you want to?” Louis asks softly. It’s their first time ever going beyond snogging, and it’s not really under the best circumstances. They had decided to take things slow because of their situation with Mr. Acker.

“I want,” Harry replies, frustrated. He whines when Louis doesn’t lift his arms to remove the shirt. “Louis.”

Louis’ quiet for a moment, searching Harry’s face for a sign of hesitation, but he finds none. “Okay.”

Harry quickly pulls off Louis’ shirt, then his own, then reconnects their lips, immediately pushing his tongue into the shorter boy’s mouth.

Louis moans softly as Harry’s hands explore his chest, stopping at his nipples and brushing his thumbs over them.

Harry pulls away from their kiss, then climbs off of Louis and stands up, holding his hand out towards the older lad. Louis takes it and hauls himself up, and the two make their way to Louis’ bed. Louis pushes Harry down, then clambers on top of him and kisses him again while fiddling with the button of his jeans.

They part and Louis immediately pulls the denim down Harry’s long legs, then does the same with his pants. Harry is completely naked underneath him and he has never looked so beautiful.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells Harry from his place between his legs. “So beautiful.”

Harry blushes and tugs at the waistband of Louis’ sweatpants. “I want yours off, too.”

Louis quickly sheds the rest of his clothes and lays himself back on top of Harry, so their bare legs are tangled and their groins are pressed together.

“Louis,” Harry whispers, his hips bucking up. Louis moans quietly as their cocks grind together, the heat and friction causing Louis’ stomach to coil.

“Louis,” Harry repeats, this time as a groan, their hips grinding together filthily.

Louis’ hands are splayed on the bed on either side of Harry head, and their eyes are levelled. Harry’s eyes are staring into Louis’ so intensely that he finds it hard to look away.

“I want to suck you off,” Louis pants, his hips coming to a halt.

“No, Louis, please just fuck me,” Harry whines, his fingertips pressing into Louis’ back.

Louis bites his lip. “Okay. But I need to prep you first.”

Louis climbs off the bed and goes into his bathroom to get a condom and a packet of lube and returns to see Harry stroking his hard cock. He licks his lips and settles back between Harry’s legs, then generously coats his fingers with the lube.

“Spread your legs, baby,” he says. Harry immediately does as he says and moans when he feels one of Louis’ fingers prodding at his dry hole.

Louis carefully slips one finger inside Harry, and he’s so tight, and Louis can’t wait to be inside him. He pumps his finger a few times before Harry’s muttering: “Another, Lou, please.”

Louis adds a second finger, then a third, while playing with the other boy’s nipples, rolling the hardened nubs between his fingers and pulling at them.

“Louis,” Harry pants, his face shiny with sweat. “I’m ready, please, I’m ready.”

Louis slips his fingers out and quickly rolls the condom on his leaking dick, then applies a coating of lube, just to be sure he doesn’t hurt Harry.

He positions himself so his cock is lined up with Harry’s entrance, then pauses and looks up at Harry. “H…are you sure you want to do this?”

Harry whines, blushing. “Yes, yes, Louis, please. Fuck me, please, Louis.”

“Okay, baby,” Louis says, then pushes into Harry slowly. He moans as his dick is encased in white-hot heat. Harry’s shoulders sink back into the mattress as he shudders, letting out a loud moan.

“Good, baby?”

“Yes,” he groans. “Move please.”

Louis starts to move his hips gently, leaning over Harry so they’re face to face with each other. He presses a bruising kiss to Harry’s lips, then brushes his hair from his face with delicate touches.

“Louis,” Harry sighs happily. Louis gets a rhythm going, his thrusts heavy and slow.

They’re at it for a while when Louis looks down to see Harry’s eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Harry,” he says, startled, his thrusts abruptly stopping.

“I want to leave,” he sobs. “Please keep going.”

“H…”

“Louis please. Please keep fucking me.”

Louis apprehensively returns to fucking the younger boy, keeping their faces only inches apart.

Harry lets out little ‘uh uh uh’s while a tear rolls down the side of his face. “I want to leave with you, Louis. I hate it here.”

“Oh, baby,” Louis replies, tears welling up in his own eyes. “Baby.”

“I hate it,” Harry sobs quietly, then moans when Louis hits his prostate. “I miss home.”

Louis kisses Harry’s cheeks, his hips still moving, trying to comfort the boy.

“I want to leave,” Harry repeats. “I want you to leave with me.”

“I will,” Louis says immediately, then thrusts particularly hard, Harry moaning loudly.

Then the two are crying together while having sex and it shouldn’t be as romantic and intimate as it is.

Harry wraps his legs around Louis’ hips and pushes himself even closer, his heavy breath hitting Louis’ cheek. “’M close.”

“Me too,” Louis says.

Their eyes meet, and Harry is spurting all over himself while mumbling: “I love you, I love you, I love you,” over and over again. Louis’ heart melts when he deciphers what the boy is muttering.

“I love you, too, baby. My baby boy.” Louis’ hips speed up, chasing his own orgasm. “I love you so much.”

Louis comes, shooting into the condom and burying his face into Harry’s neck. He kisses the skin there as he comes down from his haze then slowly removes himself from Harry, then disposes of the condom.

Harry’s still muttering ‘I love you’s when Louis returns to him with a damp cloth to clean him up.

“Baby, I love you so much,” Louis whispers. “So much.”

Harry whines as Louis wipes the come off his spent cock. “Louis.”

Louis flings the cloth onto the floor then climbs into the bed beside Harry, covering them both with the comforter. He wraps his arms around Harry’s waist, so that he’s spooning the taller boy, and kisses his hair.

“I want to leave.” Louis hears again. But it’s quiet and timid this time.

“Of course, baby. We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

And Louis means it. He would drop everything to make his boy happy.

“As soon as possible,” Harry slurs, his voice heavy with fatigue. “Tomorrow even.”

Louis laughs quietly. “Okay, H.”

_x_

They leave the next night. They leave everything except one small duffel to share between the two of them.

_x_

They hop on a train and go to Louis’ hometown, Doncaster.

_x_

They move back into Louis’ mum’s house, and start searching for flats.

_x_

They move into a small studio apartment a month after they’ve left. It’s tiny and it smells weird but it’s perfect.

_x_

Louis proposes to Harry a year and a half after they’ve left the circus. He does it at home in their flat and Harry cries. They celebrate with shower sex.

_x_

Suddenly it’s five years after they’ve left and they see on the news that Mr. Acker was arrested for scamming his employees out of their money and for multiple hate crimes.

_x_

It’s ten years later and they have a little boy named Jacob and everything is different but it’s so, _so_ good.

Louis’ never seen Harry happier. And he’s never been more in love.

_Fin._


End file.
